


glow of the future (lead me back home)

by orphan_account



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Amnesia, Anxiety, Dragons, Gen, Goddesses, Time Shenanigans, Trades, Worship, author knows what she is doing but it seems very unclear at the minute, i promise it will!, it will make sense when u read it.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2020-10-30 03:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20807747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It takes him some time, but he gets there.He always does, after all.





	glow of the future (lead me back home)

**Author's Note:**

> aight lads this is a new AU! some nicknames are in common with other aus (i know wild's linked universe but shhhh,h i couldnt think of a cool name for him)
> 
> edit 251119: fixed some errors which could be worded more smoothly, added some extras too!

Wild stares up at the statue before him.

This statue of the goddess does not feel like any other that he has seen. It is completely unlike the statue atop Mount Lanayru, with its frigid eyes but soft and soothing voice. That statue, despite being so cold and imposing, had treated him warmly, and thanked him gratefully when his arrows had freed the dragon from its burning prison. That statue had been kind to him, despite the cold clinging to it. The statue within the Akkala spring had been much the same. It had glowed with power, and Wild's chest had felt warm with it when its blessing passed over to him.

This statue of the goddess is nothing like the statue in the depths of the Faron region. Faron's statue (_Farore, _it says its name is) hums whenever he is near, a soothing promise that he will never be alone again. Farore will always be there. The other statues, too, they all talk to him; they whisper sometimes, but not as much as Farore does. She knows him all too well - she speaks to him, reassures him, knows him better than he knows himself. 

Farore knows him so well. Sometimes it feels like she _is _him, in a sort of twisted way. Her voice is his. She speaks words into existence for him. Her avatar drops scales flickering with electricity for him. Its scales glimmer in the morning light, its fangs warp and curl as they land before him. It sheds its claws and they fall from the sky into his lap. The coverings curl up with energy and he strips them bare. Her avatar rasps in a pale imitation of her voice, _"courage, thank you..." _before it is gone. 

This statue of the goddess is nothing like that.

This statue does not speak to him; it stays quiet no matter what he does. Never once shifting or moving, the eyes remain cold and impersonal. They look at him - no, they look though him. Wild is not being watched by this statue of this goddess. This goddess does not care about him. This goddess does not care about _anyone. _She looms above them all with her cold eyes and cold hands and uncaring nature. She does not focus on her people but only on herself.

Wild turns away from it. This statue of the goddess does not care about him, so he does not care about it.

As with the other blessing shrines Wild has been to, this one is simple. Running water flows around the raised pedestal which the monk rests upon. Glowing blue emblems etched into the walls and the floor provide light, turning the water unnatural colours. Nothing about the shrine is natural except the skeleton of the monk. There is no challenge for him to pass through, nor is there a threat for him to fight. All that lingers in the shrine is himself, and the monk.

Wild walks towards the monk. It is just like all the others, empty-eyed and hollowed-out, but for the bones. One skeletal hand clutches the spirit orb. Its blackened skull is twisted, almost into a grin. _You have done well to find this shrine, _says the monk. _Claim your reward, little hero. As always it waits for you. _

The skeleton moves. That one hand crackles as it bends, fine dust falling to the floor. It drops the spirit orb before him; there is a heavy clang as it falls into his palm. _Take your reward, _the monk insists. _Link, a hero beyond the ages. Yes. This reward befits one such as you. _Wild shudders and draws back as the hand reaches for his face. Bone traces over the line of his jaw, he tenses and pulls himself away from it. The feeling sickens him.

The hand grasps his jaw tight. Wild tries to pull away from it. It has been dead for ten thousand years and yet it knows his _name _and what he has done and it is _dead _\- Wild coughs and tries to pull back again but its grip is too tight. _Link... _the voice rasps. _Why do you run? This is your fate, your destiny. _It flickers, already fading. Green dust ripples up from the body as it crumbles. He breathes as the pressure recedes and he chokes.

Wild can't breathe.

The pressure on his jaw is gone entirely. But the words of the monk stick in his mind, his breaths stick in his throat. _Focus, _he tells himself, though the words sound unnatural. He grabs the spirit orb. Cold and heavy, it rests in the palm of his hand; he throws it from one hand to the other and back, rolling the weight between his palms.

Somehow it feels familiar. Wild continues to move it back and forth. Slowly, he relaxes. He breathes. The anxiety ebbs and flows in waves until it only laps against the far edges of his mind. He feels. He feels. What does he feel?

At ease, he supposes. More relaxed than before. Wild lets the calm overtake him, just breathing. In and out. Back and forth moves the spirit orb. It's still smooth, still cold, still heavy. It has not changed. The world has not moved on without him.

Wild breathes. He is still here. He is still alive.

Seeing the sunrise will never get old. He still remembers the first sunrise he saw. The golden light filtering in over the tower, that last trace of night fading on the horizon. The dragon rising up in the distance, with the sparkling electricity flaring up around it. Each sight is one he tries to burn into his mind so that he will never forget it.

Even now, months after he had awoken on the Great Plateau, Wild loves to sit and watch the sunrise. His small camp above the southern bay, looking out over Lurelin Village always provides a beautiful view. The Lovers' Pond always catches the golden light until it gleams. He commits the sight to memory, even though he must have seen it a hundred times before.

The sunset is equally as beautiful. There's a small island by Rito Village, where the water glows pink when the sun sets. The plants are always ripe with peppers. Sometimes, if he's lucky, he'll be able to find garlic or other rarities bursting up from the ground. When the blood moon rises Wild sets himself a camp on the small pillar. The light of the flames and the smell of a home-cooked meal is enough to drive away the terror clinging to his bones.

Somehow, even the blood moon can be beautiful. Despite the bloodstained water and the malice sticking in his lungs, the tints of red to the world around them and the cold and quiet of the night can be soothing. No other person dares to come out when the blood moon rises. Wild gets his own peace on nights like that.

Wild doesn't want to forget any more nights.

_Photograph #1_

_A photograph of the Horse God's shrine, with the full fountain in view. The light from within it casts the rock in shades of lavender and gold. The sky is clear, and in the distance the moon can be seen._

_malanya is familiar somehow, but they say they havent been awoken in centuries. i have only slept for a hundred years yet they know me, they call me little hero and say that my horse is glad to have rode by my side. i don't know malanya. how do they know me?_

_how is malanya so familiar?_

"Link?" Trissa hums. He nods slightly, turns so that his body is angled towards her. "Would you mind doing me a favour?"

He signs back, _"it depends."_

Trissa picks up one of the Swift Carrots in the basket, looking over it with an eye. "We're hoping to make a curry for dinner tonight," she says. "But we don't have any goron spice. Would you mind getting a pot for us?"

_"What's in it for me?"_

She scrawls out a few small calculations on some paper. As she writes she says, "we'll pay you back for your efforts, of course - I have some bundles of herbs stored away, and the extra poultry will only go to waste. Perhaps I could even throw in some of our specialty Swift Carrots?"

_"It's a deal," _Wild says, _"how much Goron Spice do you need?"_

"Oh, only two or three bottles," Trissa replies cheerily. "Thank you, Link."

Rito Stable is the best source of Goron Spice that Wild knows of; going to the Gorons directly would probably produce something better, but the heat and burning fire of Death Mountain have always been off-putting to him, to say the least. The vendor who offers him the spice is always kind to him. Cheery, too. He'll talk quietly about his day as he bottles up the spice, passing them over in exchange for more clear bottles. If Wild has no glass bottles to offer, then he'll pay extra for some spares. It's a good system they have going.

Wild silently hands over forty-five rupees and signs, _"I need some extra bottles, please."_

"Of course, Link!" The vendor agrees. "It has been quite a long time since I saw you. I was beginning to worry that you had been injured, or perhaps even worse. I'm glad that you are alright!"

He smiles, though it's stiff.

"Thank you for continuing to come to my little shop! You continuing to come to me has kept me afloat, though it pains me to admit it. What brings you here today? You normally only need a bottle for the month, not the four you've bought. Now - don't think that I'm not glad for your continued support! I appreciate it more than you could ever know. It simply seems unnatural for you to buy so much over such a short span of time."

_"A friend wanted some Goron Spice; I thought that I should stock up too, whilst I was picking it up for her." _Wild digs into his rupee pouch and pulls out an extra thirty rupees. _"Could you add some extra bottles for me, please?"_

The vendor smiles, pouring some of the spice into a few more bottles. Tying them together with some loose string, he replies, "of course, of course. However much you need, my friend." He corks the bottles and passes them over to Link. "Four bottles for yourself, and another two for your friend. I hope they enjoy it!"

_"Thank you," _Wild signs, but he's already turned away.

_Photograph #2_

_A photograph of a platter of crepes. They are folded neatly, and rolled up into a neat cone halfway. Fresh cream has been spread out on the base of the dish. Honey is drizzled over the crepes, and halved wildberries spill out from the folds. Wild's shadow casts half of the platter into darkness; the tip of his finger can be seen in the corner of the photograph. In the background, the sun gleams._

_crepes are so much fun to bake. impa said she wanted some after a long time, so i tried to make them for her. it didn't go well the first time. or the second, so i went and remade them! eventually they came out well. she said i did a good job and that i should be proud and it made me feel oddly warm and safe. i should remember the recipe for if i want to make them again: fresh milk, eggs, wheat, sugar and courser honey. i wonder what other kinds of honey i could use..._

"Hello, my friend!" Kass beams. His voice always sounds warm and freeing, like the tropical breeze brushing over his arms. "It has been a long time, has it not?" He moves easily from note to note, the progressions natural. All Wild can do is nod. The music is soft against his ears. He relaxes. "You always seem so entranced by my music. Is it the music, may I ask, or is it the playing that mesmerises you so?"

_"The playing," _Wild signs. _"Your music is always so wonderful! I wish to play for myself one day."_

"Of course you would, my friend. Music can be such a beautiful thing." Kass agrees. "Which instrument would you like to play? My mentor kept many in his home, if you would like to find one for yourself?"

Wild thinks. An old song plays through his head, a loop of a rhythm that doesn't seem like it will end. _"One day, perhaps." _He signs, _"but not today. Maybe when Ganon has fallen." _

"Still." Kass insists. "There must be something waiting for you. Ganon will be gone; I am sure of it. What instrument?"

"...A harp." Wild says, eventually. The Rito beams and nods.

His arrow is trained on the eye. Zelda's voice murmurs in his head. _"Link..." _She whispers. _"Defeat Ganon. Please, free us from all of the suffering that has befallen this kingdom." _He focuses, draws the string of the Bow of Light back. The arrowhead shines in the moonlight. Wild pulls back, releases.

The arrow flies straight and true. Malice spurts from the gaping wound on its head. Ganon's roar sounds more like a wail. Zelda thanks him, quiet, as the hulking beast stumbles and falls. Her hands glow with light as a bubble surrounds the demon. It shrinks and then is gone. Malice rushes backwards from the field, the sky is suddenly dark but clear. Wild breathes, in and out and in and out.

Something about the world is different. New. The air no longer feels as heavy; something has been lifted from it, and the word feels new. It has been reborn in this moment. Wild feels... new. Wild feels free.

Dark Beast Ganon is gone. His destiny is done.

Wild is free.

_Photograph #11_

_A photograph of the Master Sword. There is a faint glow surrounding it, and some plants have begun to grow over the foot of the blade. In the corners of the pedestal, a few Silent Princess flowers glow. The moon, full and white, rises on the horizon. Wild's shadow has been cast over half of the pedestal, and the bottom right of the photograph is somewhat blurred._

_she sings to me sometimes. i hear her voice and it is warm and clear and high. she sounds like home but she says i am not ready, i am not ready and i do not feel like i ever will be. she is so warm and she reminds me of home and i love her. i love her more than anyone i have ever known even though i have never met her. i hope that one day i can come home. i hope that one day i can meet her._

He wakes. The blue light of the Shrine of Resurrection stares down at him.

**Author's Note:**

> LADS i love my wild... good littol boy... precious... also i know some stuff is wrong, like. i know garlic doesnt exist in the loz universe but... please take it as it is
> 
> follow my twitter @goruluvs if u want to see updates on my writing


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